


Charms

by imagineteamfreewill



Series: Making Promises [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester is Reader's Parent, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Other, dean knocks the reader out, the reader's mother is in an abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineteamfreewill/pseuds/imagineteamfreewill
Summary: Graduating from high school was one of your three promises to Dean, and now that you’ve completed it, all you have to do is keep the last one that you haven’t already fulfilled—no hunting. However, it’s hard to keep a promise that you’ve already broken.





	Charms

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my tumblr account of the same name on November 29th, 2014 and edited on August 14th, 2017.

“Hey Dean?” you called. Walking out of your bedroom, you fastened your earring as you headed down the hall in search of your father. “Dean!”

After a few more times of calling his name, Dean finally popped his head out of the kitchen, a pan containing one of his famous pancakes in his right hand. “What, Y/N?” His eyes flickered between your face and the pancake, watching it carefully to make sure it didn’t burn.

“Have you seen my bag?” You slipped on your heels, almost falling over in the process. You despised wearing heels, as they weren’t shoes you could run in, but today was a special occasion. Dean shrugged, but you heard Sam shout from the table that your bag was on the floor in the war room, where you had left it yesterday morning.

Passing the mirror you’d hung down the hall from your bathroom, you stopped and scowled. Your hair hung loosely down your back, and you desperately wished that you could tie it back and away from your face. On any other day, you would’ve wrangled it back into a ponytail, but today you resisted the urge to head back to your room and grab a hair tie to do just that.

Today was special; today you weren’t  _just_  a normal girl, you weren’t  _just_  a hunter’s daughter, you weren’t even  _just_  a Winchester. Today, you were a graduate. Today, at promptly one-thirty in the afternoon, you’d be handed a diploma and wished the best of luck, then sent out into the world without the vaguest idea of what to do next.

In the mirror, you saw Cas appear behind you. You were so used to him doing that it didn’t even scare you anymore. You laughed, remembering the first time you had met him. Cas’s face reflected the smile as well.

“Good morning, Cas!” you greeted, pushing your hair back again.

Turning, you moved to pull him into a hug, only to be stopped when he held up a hand. Silently, Cas reached into the deep pockets of his trenchcoat and pulled out a loosely wrapped package. He handed it to you gingerly, watching as you removed the paper to reveal a thin silver dagger.

“It’s an angel blade,” he whispered.

You nodded in response. After handing the paper wrappings back to Cas, you slipped the blade under your graduation gown, securing it in the holster-like strap around your thigh. You never carried a gun, as it was too obvious, but you always kept a knife with you. You always had to be sneaky about it, however, since your dad had a strict no-hunting rule, and you were fairly certain that it also applied to carrying weapons. Dean had given you a silver and iron charm bracelet instead, explaining that the silver and iron would protect you from a multitude of monsters, and the various anti-possession and warded charms would protect you from practically everything else. He’d also gifted you with two small vials that hung from a long, delicate chain around your neck. One held salt, while the other held a small amount of holy water. You’d never had to use either, thankfully, but you had decided long ago that if you ever got into a sticky situation, a knife would be much more useful than two small vials and the tiny charms on your bracelet.

Before you could say anything more, Cas disappeared with a flap of his wings, leaving you alone in the bunker hallway.

“He always was one for a speedy escape,” you murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Continuing into the war room, you grabbed your bag and then headed back to the kitchen. You plopped down into your usual chair just as Dean set a plate of pancakes on the table in front of you. Smiling wide, you began to shovel the syrup-soaked pancakes into your mouth, only looking up when you heard someone laugh. Sam was sitting in the chair opposite from you, watching you with amusement.

“What? I’m hungry!” you protested. He just shook his head, the smile on his face never faltering. Your phone chimed, and you dug it out of your bag. “Crap. I’m late!” You launched out of your chair and it tumbled to the floor. Snatching your bag off the tile, you ran towards the door, not stopping to respond when your father yelled,

“We’ll see you later, Y/N!

Once outside of the bunker, you clambered into your car and started it. The engine sputtered to life, and you hastily buckled yourself in and slammed your foot on the gas.

* * *

You arrived at your high school a half hour later and parked your car, then sprinted across the parking lot as fast as you could in your heels. Once inside, however, you skittered to a stop.

A tall man was blocking the hallway you needed to go down to get to your assigned room. One of the fluorescent ceiling lights had gone out, and the man’s face was hidden by the shadows. The only thing you could see clearly was the long knife that glittered in his left hand.

“Y/N Winchester,” he said, his voice deep. It made your skin tingle, goosebumps rising as a fear made you shiver.

“That’s not my name,” you replied, your voice shaking slightly. “My name’s Y/N Callen.” Dean had come up with the fake last name for you to use at school, as his real identity was considered dead and he wanted you to be safe from his reputation with the legal system.

The man laughed. “That’s a lie.” He walked closer, twirling the knife. Instinctively, you reached into your gown and pulled out the first weapon you could find.

It was the angel blade.

“Who are you?” you asked, pacing yourself as you moved towards him. Shifting the blade in your hand, a small part of your mind registered how comfortable the dagger felt in your grip. It was almost as if you’d been fighting with it for your whole life, and you felt a tiny bit of pride at the thought.

“You don’t recognize me?” The man stepped into the light, revealing the all-too-familiar face you’d spend the past few years of your life trying to forget. “I’m your stepdad! he sneered with obvious delight glittering in his eyes.

 _They got married_ , you said to yourself as a wave of disgust rolled over you. “How did you find me?” You kept your tone hard and cold, watching Thomas as he grew closer and closer.

“It was easy. Your mom gave you up pretty easily once I had cut into her a few times. Your father, Dean Winchester? He’s quite a celebrity. And, if killing you means hurting him, well, then I’m all for it.”

A low growl escaped from your throat as tears pricked your eyes. This man had hurt your mother, the one person you had vowed to protect, and now he wanted to hurt the rest of your family.

“You’re a monster,” you spat.

“That’s right, Y/N. I am.” Thomas’ eyes flicked black, and then he began to run. He slashed at you with the long knife he held.

You dodged it by stepping to the side.  _Stepdad? Yeah right. More like step-demon_ , you thought to yourself. As you avoided getting sliced by the metal, you remembered something Dean had said to you in one of the many self-defense training sessions he had given you.  _“If you ever get into a fight **—** which you won’t, because you’re not a hunter **—** stay on the defense as long as possible.”_

Dean knew more about fighting than you ever would, so you took his advice, dodging, sidestepping, and parrying as much as you could. After a few moments, however, you saw an opening you couldn’t ignore. Thomas was starting to tire, and you quickly sliced through his shirt with your blade, making a long cut across his abdomen.

 _“That_  was for mistreating my mother,” you said through gritted teeth, slicing him again. Thomas hissed in pain.  _“That_  was for mistreating me.” Another slice.  _“That_ was for being a jerk.” Slash. “And  _that,”_  you spat, shoving your knife up through his ribs and into his heart, “Is for my father.” A yellow and orange glow flickered throughout his body, and he slumped to the floor, his mouth hanging open.

Quickly, you pulled the knife out and wiped the blood from it onto his clothes. You looked around for a place to hide him, finally settling on a janitor’s closet, and just as you’d finished stuffing his body into the small space you heard a voice from down the hall. You hurriedly hid your angel blade under your gown as the voice grew closer. After one last check to make sure you hadn’t left any evidence of a fight behind, you gathered up the fabric of your graduation gown and hurried down the hall. You were just rounding the corner when your friend Shannon bumped into you, sending you crashing down onto the tile.

“Y/N! You’re late!” she cried, holding out a hand to help you up.

“I always am!” you laughed, letting her help you up and lead you to the classroom to wait with the rest of your classmates.

* * *

“Y/N Callen,” your school’s superintendent said over the PA system. You walked up the steps and onto the stage.

The woman standing on it smiled at you and said, “Congratulations, Y/N.” She handed you your diploma and shook your hand.

Turning, you smiled as big as when you had found Dean a year ago. The field of parents clapped politely, but in the back there was a group of three men that towered over them all, cheering as loud as they could. You threw your head back and laughed, then flipped your tassel to the other side. Sam raised a camera and took your picture from afar.

Throwing your fist in the air, you heard the charms chime on your bracelet and a quick look upward gave you a glimpse of the silver ones glittering in the afternoon sunlight. In the back of your mind, you remembered what Dean said that first night: “You’re going to finish high school completely. Graduation and all.”

You had made him that promise, one of three. A small voice in your head reminded you that you had broken one of them **—** that you had been hunting, taking cases during your breaks off school or sneaking out at night for small salt-and-burns in nearby towns. You shook off the thought and sat down to watch the other students walk across the stage, their smiles just as big as yours.

* * *

 

Two hours later you were back in the bunker, sitting on your bed and shopping online for things to put in your dorm room. Though your amount of belongings had grown, courtesy of Cas and both Winchesters, it was still meager—meager enough to raise questions about your past, and that was something you’d like to forget. At least, you’d like to forget the part that came before Sam and Dean. You wanted to convince everyone at your university that you had lived a normal, apple-pie life.

Groaning, you fell back onto the bed and accidentally hit your head on the wooden headboard. “Ow,” you groaned, reaching up to rub the sore spot. A knock at the door made you look up, and you quickly sat up to make sure you didn’t have any hunting tabs open on your laptop. “Come in!” you answered, flopping back down again, making sure not to hit your head this time.

The door opened and Dean walked in. He stopped at the sight of you, a quizzical look on his face. “Why are you sitting like that?” he asked.

You waved away the question. “What’s up?” You struggled up to a normal sitting position and crossed your legs.

Dean shifted his weight, and finally sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked down at a small black box he held in his hands. “I got this for you,” he told you, holding it out for you to take.

Gingerly, you took the box and ran a finger over the velvet covering. You flipped open the top and gasped a little. Inside was a delicate silver graduation cap **—** a charm for your bracelet.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe. “Can you help me put it on?” You stuck your wrist out, pulling up your sleeve slightly so the charm bracelet was visible. Your father took the charm from the box and carefully clipped it onto its own silver link. Shaking your arm, you smiled at the happy sound it made when it knocked against the others.

“Thanks, Dad.” Dean’s head shot up and he looked at you. You had never called him ‘Dad’ before, claiming it felt odd. Now it just felt natural. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around him. He had never been the hugging type, but you could feel his happiness when he returned the gesture.

After you pulled away, Dean stood. “When are— When does— What day do you have to go?” he asked, fishing for the right words.

“September first,” you replied. He nodded, then left your room. You smiled to yourself.  _Who needs apple-pie_ , you thought,  _when I can have all this_?

* * *

The summer passed quickly, and you had filled every minute of it. When you weren’t working or at the beach, you were training or hunting in secret. You hadn’t told Dean, and you didn’t plan on it either. It was now October thirty-first, and the partying was in full swing in your residential building.

“Hey, cool costume,” said a slurred voice. “Wanna hook up later?” You looked to your right and saw a pack of drunk seniors checking you out. Flipping them off, you continued walking off campus. You had needed to look inconspicuous for what you were about to do, and considering it was Halloween you didn’t even bother hiding your gear. You purposely made it all incredibly obvious, so you looked like you were dressed up as a hero from some action-adventure movie for a party of some sort.

Once you were off the university grounds, you slipped into an alley and checked your pockets and various sheaths and holsters.  _Silver bullets? Check. Holy water? Check. Knife? Check. Handgun? Check. Flashlight? Check. Angel blade?_  You felt for it in your coat sleeve, mentally ticking off the box for it on the checklist in your head. Walking out of the alley, you adopted a casual pace, as if walking to a Halloween party in the city. Your thigh holster fit snugly around your body, and as a wind whipped through the street you pulled your jacket closer to you in an attempt to shield yourself from its coldness.

“I love your costume!” shrieked a girl dressed as an angel, complete with a fuzzy halo. You smiled politely, laughing internally at her get-up.  _If only she knew what real angels looked like,_ you thought with a smile.  _Cas would be appalled._

You trudged on, watching for the signs of your target. Of course, it would help if you actually knew what you were hunting. All you knew was that once a week for the past month there had been something killing off unknowing college students, and you hadn’t gotten a lead on its location until two days ago. You quickly and carefully checked each buildings’ windows as you walked past, and out of the corner of the eye you saw movement in an old house.

“How cliché, the creepy thing is camped out in a boarded up house,” you mumbled. 

Creeping up the porch stairs, you pulled out your handgun and flashlight, balancing one arm on top of the other like you had seen Sam and Dean do. You weren’t supposed to have seen them hunting or training, but it was hard not to. They often brought newer, younger hunters back to the bunker so they could train them, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t peeked in at Sam and Dean working with them.

A harsh scream came from inside the house, and you kicked the door open, rushing inside. The ground floor was empty, and you hurried up the stairs towards the noise. Upstairs, in an otherwise empty room, there was a college girl tied in a chair, blood dripping from her collarbone and forehead. Across the room from the girl was the monster, its back to you.

“Hey!” you shouted. It turned, and you quickly recognized its features. It was a werewolf, and you held back a groan of disgust when you noticed the human heart clenched in the girl’s hand. You raised your gun, aiming at the werewolf that was readying itself to pounce on you.

“Get the girl!” shouted a voice behind you.

Before you could act, a shot rang out and the monster slumped to the ground, a silver bullet lodged in its chest. Someone rushed past you. You turned to see who had killed the werewolf, but they knocked you out with a sharp blow to the head before you could see their face.

* * *

“What the hell?” someone shouted.

Slowly, you blinked opened your eyes, wincing at the pain coursing through your head and the light shining in your eyes.

“Three things! That’s all I ever asked!”

You squinted, trying to make something out against the bright light. You tried to raise a hand to shield your eyes, only to discover that they were tied behind your back. Wiggling your feet resulted in nothing, as they were tied to the chair you were in as well.

A hand grabbed your arm, squeezing so hard you yelped from the pain. “Why?” the person—a man—roared. “Why did you do this to me, Y/N? What if we hadn’t been there? What if that monster had killed you?”

Your circumstances slowly dawned on you as the speaker continued yelling.

Eventually, the man was ripped away from you with a firm, “Enough, Dean. That’s enough.”

The light was switched off, and you blinked, the room coming into focus. Standing in front of you were the two people you loved the most.  _Sam and Dean._ Dean’s face was beyond furious, while Sam’s was a mix of betrayal and disappointment. Unable to meet their eyes, you looked down. You heard Dean take a shaky breath.

“Why?” he asked simply.

You shook your head. “I can’t  _not_  hunt, Dean. It’s in my blood. It’s in your blood,” you added. He flinched, and Sam murmured something to him. Your father nodded, then left the dungeon.

You scoffed. They had you locked in the dungeon.  _Like a monster_ , you thought. “A prisoner,” you whispered.

Sam knelt down and untied your wrists and ankles, being careful not to touch you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We found you completely by accident. We knew about the werewolf, that it was near your school, and we went to go kill it. Dean was going to visit you on Saturday,” he said.

“What day is it?” you asked. Sam said that it was Sunday night. “I’ve been out for three whole days?”

He nodded. “You should be fine now, Dean hit you pretty hard on the head. You can leave the dungeon now. We’re just gonna have to watch for concussions signs and things like that. But…” Sam trailed off, clearly not wanting to continue. After a second, he took a deep breath. “You can’t go back to school.”

Your head snapped up from where you were concentrating on returning the blood flow back to your limbs by rubbing them. “What?” you spat, anger flooding your mind. Sam didn’t respond. “I  _have_  to go back, Sam!”

Your uncle stood up, his body towering over yours. “It’s not my decision,” he replied. He didn’t meet your angry gaze, he simply busied himself with putting the ropes back into the box where the boys kept extra weapons and ropes they didn’t use often.

Angrily, you huffed and went to fiddle with your charm bracelet, a habit you had adopted whenever you got emotional. It wasn’t on your wrist.

“Where’s my bracelet?” you demanded.

“Ask your father.”

You pushed past him and went out into the hallway. Dean was standing outside the door, seemingly waiting for you.

“Where’s my bracelet?” you asked, your arms crossed over your chest.

“I took it back. Seeing as you’re going to be staying here from now on, you won’t need the symbols for safety. And you certainly won’t need it to remind you that you’ve graduated and been able to go to college,” he continued, mentioning the small graduation charm he had given you, “Because you’ll have your own guilt for that.” Dean stood up from where he was leaning against the wall and walked down the hallway in the direction of his room.

“You can’t keep me here forever, Dean Winchester!” you yelled at your father’s retreating form.

He turned. “Watch me.”


End file.
